Enouement
by EnbyPeep
Summary: Enouement; Noun The bittersweet feeling of having arrived in the future and seeing how things turn out, without being able to tell your past self.


_"We have a plan to find the answers that you seek. However, we have need for your help. You must help secure all of the vessels."_

It was supposed to be a simple mission. Secure the vessels - thirteen people to be used to house his older self's heart. Thirteen darknesses, just like the stories and records of the Keyblade War. And that was Xehanort's mission. To use his newly gifted magic to travel through the threads of time and make sure that they were all present and accounted for. Nothing more, nothing less. A simple mission.

At least, until he failed.

Sora was right there, and he was so close. Sora was going to be the last vessel, the Thirteenth Member. And then, his mission would be complete. All the Darknesses would have been assembled in one place, just as he had been ordered.

And afterwords, he mission would be complete, and Xehanort would've been free to leave. His job would be done. He would go back to his own time, train, and follow the path laid before him.

But then, that boy had to arrive and ruin everything. It was infuriating, it was embarrassing, it was... it was…

It was the worst thing that could've possibly happened.

Thanks to that brat, he was stuck serving in the future. He was not supposed to stay here this long. As far as Xehanort was concerned, he should have been long gone by now. Far away (both distance-wise and time-wise) on Destiny Islands, waiting and training to be a keyblade master. The fact that he was still here, in this god-awful castle, was pure torture to the young man. It's not that he wasn't interested in staying to see what came of his older self's keyblade war, he was just...tired. Time travel took a lot out of you, no matter how skilled you were in the magic.

When he first arrived, it was easy to just focus on the mission. All he had to do was jump between a few years every now and then, make sure to witness the member becoming a vessel, and occasionally picking a fight with any one that put up too much of a resistance. In fact, he hardly had to interact with the actual vessel-to-be at all, if you exclude Sora. Back then, all he had to do was watch and witness. Confirm that a member was introduced. Compile potential candidates. It was easy, it was simple, and best of all, Xehanort didn't have to interact with many of the actual worlds he visited. He wanted to, of course, when he first started traveling. But he quickly learned that there is a stark difference between the worlds as he knows them, and the same worlds fifty years into the future. All of the new technology made his head spin, and he'd rather not look like an idiot in front of the Organization, thank you very much.

But now, with all the more time he's having to spend going back and forth between the worlds, Xehanort may not have a choice.

The more time he spends in this time, the more and more likely he would have to interact with its advancements. He curses the fool that thought any of this tech was necessary to have in day-to-day life.

He also noted that he often speaks differently from the others in the Organization. And this revelation came with oh, so much annoyance. He was not at all a very social person, but that doesn't make it any less infuriating when he can hardly follow a simple conversation. He was observational by nature, and enjoyed listening far more than talking, but that is near impossible when the evolution of language makes it to where he has no idea what anyone is saying. He isn't stupid, he tells himself, It's just how people work. But that doesn't do much to quell his frustration of needing Xemnas to tell him what the others' mean when they speak.

Not that they speak to Xehanort often. No, if anything, they almost seem to go out of their way to not talk to him. He could sort of understand, he supposes - After all, who would be comfortable with talking to the younger version of their boss? And he's not complaining about the lack of camaraderie, of course not. He honestly couldn't care less about whether or not the lackeys spoke to him. The thing that he was complaining about was the lack of communication between him and his older self. It's not that he's looking for some sort of ""friendship"", no, that'd be weird.

But, would it hurt to know what the endgame was? What were they even trying to accomplish? Before, Xehanort was fine not knowing. He had a been given a mission, and he was perfectly content to simply do it. Back then, it didn't matter that he only had a vague idea of their goal. It's not like he was going to stick around long enough for any more involvement.

Except, he did.

And now, he thinks it does matter.

However, absolutely no one would answer him. No amount of threatening the inferiors, no amount of pleading to the older ones' interests, nothing would give him the answers he sought.

How ironic, he thought, that he was promised answers, only to be given more forbidden questions.

The only thing that he could do is speculate why they wouldn't answer him. It was so stupid that he was keeping secrets from himself. And there were multiple times where Xehanort thought that he himself was stupid for questioning the other him. It was stupid for someone such as him to not trust himself. But then, he would always find himself at a thought:

Back in his time, no one would answer his questions about Kingdom Hearts and the Keyblade War for fear of him turning to the Darkness; So, then, was he being withheld answers for fear of him turning to the light?

* * *

Well, Xehanort managed it.

He got his answers.

And, by god, he hates himself for it.

Yes, he wanted answers, and yes, he was frustrated at everyone's constant hatred of the Darkness.

But he didn't want answers this bad. (Apparently, Xeha, you do, he tells himself. Just look at what you're going to do when you're older.)

Looking at the lengths that his older self went to just to understand a simple piece of history, to just prove the others wrong, to just satiate curiosity, made him sick to his stomach. He had ruined the lives of so many, had created tragedy after tragedy, had murdered innocent people, and it was horrifying. He knows that he's not the most compassionate person, but he's not heartless, damnit. (Not yet, anyway.)

If he was tired before, then he was flat out exhausted nowadays. Back then, the only thing that really bothered him was the strain of jumping back and forth between years. And now, not only is his physical stamina expended casting spells, but his mental endurance was quite thoroughly being tested. Every new mission that he's given, every new assignment to focus on, ends up being analyzed closely to see just how much it affected others. Xehanort never really cared about others before, but then again, he never watched friends and families get torn apart with only a 'So be it' from the man that did it. And before, he wasn't equipped with the power to see the outcome for himself.

If anyone accused him of watching the Guardians, he would simply say that he was doing reconnaissance. Gathering information. And it wasn't very far from the truth, after all, he was observing them. He was simply looking for different answers.

And Xehanort quite often found himself just….watching them, in his free time.

The people whose lives he, personally, ruined.

And they shocked him, at first. They joked and laughed and played and talked and enjoyed themselves and each other and he didn't understand. They were torn from their normal lives and forced into a war, and made to fight impossible enemies and sometimes even each other, and there they were goofing off as if nothing ever happened. It was curious, and strange, and he wanted to keep watching more than he likes to admit. (And in a very small part of his heart, hidden deep within, he knew himself to be a bit jealous of their ability to make the most of the situation.)

So, he kept watching. And watching. Day after day, whenever he had free time (an odd concept for a time traveler), he was watching. Observing. Noting how they seemed to spend more time together after a fight, how seemed to have relay words without speaking, how they were so hopeful even in such bleakness.

And it was one of those days where Xehanort was just watching, that it hit him. It was when the girl, Kairi he tells himself, and that Axel- No, Lea, were just finishing up a training session. Even he could tell that they were getting better with their keyblades, which was quite a nice thing to know, if he were to ever encounter them face-to-face. And it was right after they dismissed their keyblades and Lea ran into the tower to get something for the two of them - and Xehanort's eyes widened slightly at seeing the man run back outside holding two bright blue objects in his hands.

It may have been years since Xehanort was in his home world (Had it really been years, or just one really long day?), but there was no way that he'd ever forget what his favorite ice cream looked like. He watched the keyblade wielders chat happily and snack on the sweet, vaguely remembering something about Axel frequently going out for ice cream when he was still in the Organization, when he felt a sharp pain in his chest. Something caused his heart to seize up, and brought tears to his eyes that threatened to overflow.

And that's when it hit him. That one, nearly unremarkable moment, brought upon him a realization that hit him harder than any heartless, nobody, or unversed ever could.

He missed home.

As that epiphany struck him, his knees buckled and he let out a yelp, completely giving his position above the Guardians away. They quickly got up and scanned the area, searching for the intruder, and just narrowly missing him as he summoned a dark corridor anywhere but there.

He missed home.

He, who spent most of his life yearning for more, to know what was beyond the oceans, to be far away from the stifling islands, missed his home. The fact that he was even referring to the Destiny Islands as home spoke yards about his mental state.

Maybe Xehanort spent too long watching the Guardians. Maybe, even through just observing, some of their sentimental light rubbed off on him. He shouldn't do it anymore. It was idiotic to do it in the first place, and it would be even more so now that he revealed that he had been watching. He should quit his nonsensical ""hobby"" and go back to focusing solely on his work.

And yet, the thought of cutting himself off from that was terrifying. He had spent so long watching their interactions and he found himself wanting it. He yearned for more. The carefree jokes and laughter, the encouraging words and helpful tips - All of it. Xehanort did not think himself as sentimental by any means, but watching those Guardians of Light simply be friends….

He wished for it, too.

Deep in his heart, where despite himself, he knows that must logically have some light left, he wanted friends (He wanted his friend.).He wanted to join them. He despised his older self at this point, was disgusted by what he would turn out to be, and genuinely thought that he would rather be of the light.

But he knows he can't.

By all the rules of time magic, he can't.

No matter how much he missed home, no matter how much he missed his fellow apprentices, no matter how much he hated being a part of such an awful scheme, he can't.

For all intents and purposes, time travel absolutely forbids it. That is, if he wants to return home. And, by god he does. The magic that he uses sends his heart forward and backward through time, leaving his body behind. Meaning, that even if he defects and joins the Guardians, even if he allows his heart back into the Light, his actual body still belongs to a heart of darkness. It wouldn't be able to handle going from a heart belonging to Darkness to a heart belonging to Light in the fraction of a second; It wouldn't be possible. Meaning, that if he did in fact leave the Organization, he wouldn't be able to inhabit his own body.

He wouldn't be able to go home.

It just wouldn't work.

And Xehanort couldn't just leave either. Well, he could. Not for long, anyways.

Leaving behind his physical body means that he won't actually remember any of his travels through the timeline. He could return to his own time, yes, but he wouldn't be aware of the Organization's plans anymore. Meaning, if they decided to just bring him back, he wouldn't know to refuse. And, who's to say that he'd suddenly remember it all over again if that happened? He could just go along with whatever they told him, blissfully unaware of what he was truly helping. He'd rather not be another pawn, especially not to himself.

It was a terrible predicament, and he cursed himself for falling for it. Really, he should've known better than to go along with a plan that he had no idea of. Xehanort was normally so much smarter than that. And, maybe that's why he fell for it so easy. His older self would, without a doubt, know him best. His older self had more experience, and quite definitely knew his own strengths and weaknesses. It was almost silly how easy it must've been to trick him into this god awful role.

Xehanort found himself regretting, and wishing so much that his magic could be used to warn himself of what he was getting into.

But that's not how it works.


End file.
